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New Orleans (La.)

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II was the best of times, it was the worst of times
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it was the age of
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it was the epoch of belief^
it was the epoch of incredulity,
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it was the season of lights
i was the season of darkness.
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if was the spring of hope.
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it was the winter of despair.
we had everything before us.
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we had nothing before us.
we were all going direct to Heaven,
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ive were all going direct the other way.
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Student life / 37
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e.*s^^,^'.asures rc^presenled artwork from the most c re-alive
phase of Egyptian art history (I 5S-I 510 B.C.).
Tutankhamun was unique in yet another way; he was the
youngest pharaoh to ascend the throne of Egypt, a mere len-yoar-
old! Tut also became the youngest king to die while in
power; he was nineteen.
I he discovery took the world by surprise, and Mi((('c(l(>d in
.illc( ling everything from the < ineni.i In arc hilcc Uiic.
Studenl Life / 49
Today, the exhibit has affected the
United States in much the same
manner; Tut-o-mania has struck the
country full force.
For the New Orleans presentation
alone, an obelisk was erected in front
of the museum; the driveway leading
to the museum was painted blue and
green to become the "Noma Nile."
Striped tents were provided for
waiting spectators, and special
"Egyptian" foods, such as "Camel
Cola" and "Tut Burgers," were
offered. But this was only a
beginning!
Department store windows were
decorated to look like Egyptian
deserts, pyramids, and various other
landscapes. Banners hung from Canal
Street poles; movie theatres
advertised the latest Egyptian flick,
and local bars created exotic new
drinks. Tut was everywhere!
Clothing became sparkled with gold and
draped in the style of Cleopatra, not to mention
the safari ensembles, and "Cleo" hairstyles.
Jewelry was also altered to appear more in the
"Tut tradition": heavy gold topped with either
jade or scarabs. But that wasn't all; many events
such as Halloween, balls, and dances donned
the face of Tut as their theme.
Yes, Tutankhamun was certainly the cultural
event of the year. The popularity of the exhibit
seemed to spread like a fever to every corner of
the city. It might be said that Tut, the child king,
finally received the pomp and ceremony he
long deserved, for the whole country was swept
up in the fury of Tut-O-Mania!!! — Mary Aton
50 / Student Life
Student I ife / 51
The
Cemeteries
New Orleans cemeteries have to be
one of the most unusual things about
one of America's most unusual cities.
When approaching the city by car on
the Interstate, many elaborate monu-ments
and tombs are visible. There are
over 31 cemeteries in the city which
boast interesting architecture in the
design of memorials. Possibly nowhere
else in the country would locals recom-mend
sightseeing in a cemetery.
52 / Student Life
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All the dead are buried above ground since
the soil is so low and swampy. There are
gruesome stories about the early days when
all burials were below ground. Caskets were
lowered into pools of oozing mud. Fre-quently,
the coffin would capsize as water
seeped inside. Worst of all, when there were
heavy rainstorms, th(> newly buried, half
decomposed cadavers wouici surface above
ground. To remedy this unpleasant situation,
tombs above ground were begun.
New Orleanians have always had a flair for
the (Jramalic , and when it came to their bur-ial
chambers it was no different. Many of the
rich Creole families imported French archi-tects
to build cldborate monuments of Italian
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54 / Student Life
student Life / 55
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indent Life/ 57
58 /student Life
60 / Student Life
Ernest "Dutch"
Morial
They came from the mansions on St. Charles, from the
projects on Claiborne, from uptown, and downtown, and
C.B.D. Blacks, whites, Chicanos, they came to the New
Orleans Hilton on this breezy November evening, and they
danced and drank and shouted "Dutch, Dutch, Dutch."
They wanted to become a part of this political upset, and
savor the victory of their candidate. Ernest "Dutch" Morial
had just become the first black mayor in New Orleans his-tor\.
And now they could celebrate.
It wasn't easy, however. )ust one week prior to the elec-tion
the Fifth United States Circuit Court of Appeals ruled
that Morial was "ineligible" to run for mayor because he
had not resigned his judgeship. Three days later, though,
the decision was reversed by a higher court which pointed
out that Morial should be allowed to run because of a
court order issued in February which overturned state
court rules. It was prohibiting judges from running for
office.
Moriai's opponent in the run-off elections, Joseph
DiRosa, ran on the usual platform of no new taxes, more
police on the streets, tougher crime laws, etc. Heavily sup-ported
by the older political organization in the city,
DiRosa claimed he was the "people's choice."
Morial made no such claims. He didn't have to. Realizing
that the only way to improve New Orleans' miserable pub-lic
school system was through higher taxes, Morial said if
that is what it takes, then new taxes it will be! No fudging
here. "Dutch" just wanted to be "up front" with the peo-ple,
and the people, he found, appreciated his courageous
manner.
Some New Orleanians, to be sure, may have found Mor-ial
to be a courageous man, but that didn't convince them
that New Orleans should have a black mayor. In fact, the
most asked question in the fall was, "Is New Orleans ready
for a black mayor?" The question, however, should have
been, "Is New Orleans ready for a reasonable and respon-sible
mayor who will represent all of the people?"
In the end, the Morial team had the last laugh, but the
race issue had been drummed into everyone's mind. Local
media coverage centered around such facts as numbers of
white and black registered votes, results of black mayors in
other cities, and the campaign emphasis on one ethnic
group or another. Needless to say, Moriai's victory proved
the Deep South had come of age. — Brad Steitz
Student Life / 61
PURPLE
PASSION
PLAY
It's a spring afternoon and I'm in the vegetated state that
too often results from "The Final" final.
At last I'm out! Escaped the penitentiary of academia
unscathed; overjoyed as a cucumber when the vegamatic
breaks.
Alas — the real world. Stumbling from Gibson Hall, I try
to get hold of myself; a vain attempt to collect the few
shattered thoughts that swim in what is left of my (alleged)
mind.
Snap, crackle, pop! My misfiring synapses in imitation of
a breakfast cereal. Aha! It's starting to come together. I
remember that we're having a "school's out" party tonight,
and I'm assigned to procure — Supplies!
But where to find: hormone pills
altimeter
whit its
K-Y jelly
Alka Seltzer
Barf bags
munchies
booze?
My mind begins to clear ... I'm beginning to wonder
just where in the hell I am. The fog is dissolving. Like a pur-ple
knight, I see the shining sign of "Your Friendly K&B."
I enter. I wonder, why is everything purple? If all of this
purple isn't a joke, then why am I laughing? Am I laughing?
The store is flushed full of it. No doubt some nouveau
riche ploy for identification with royalty.
No longer funny, it is as if I am being overwhelmed by
some subliminal force. An urge — no — a command! A
command to buy, buy, buy! My hands move, uncontrolled
by my consciousness. I am dropping items into my purple
shopping cart with reckless abandon: Pyrex baby bottles,
genuine plastic handcuffs, heavy duty trash bags. Good
Seasons Salad Dressing, a gallon of bleach, two-dozen
skeins of knitting yard.
I fight the impulse. The mental struggle with the neu-rotic
urge leaves me gasping for breath. Nausea begins to
sweep over me. Aha! My hands have developed a new
strategy. Medicine! Aisles and aisles of purple shelves of
purple bottles of medicine. The heavier ones shatter as
they are thrust against the purple stainless steel of my cart!
— Suddenly! I regain control. Something catches my eye
. . .identification. . . I am thrust quickly back into reality.
They are marvelous purple invitations that I realize I must
have for tonight's party. The party! I get plenty — five
gross. To the purple invitations I add cheese, and crackers
with the cutest purple flecks. At the liquor counter I reach
for the K&B brand alcohol. Purple labels on non-descript
colored liquids. The price seems right. A quick calculation
confirms my estimate that 75c worth per person will insure
annihilation.
I have heard the legends of K&B booze, but load my cart,
wildly. I remind myself of its various other household uses:
cleaning hair brushes and, diluted, as a leather cleaner. I
read the back label on one bottle: "It has been determined
by the Surgeon General that caution must be used to avoid
contact with open cuts, sores, hair, or clothing. When
cleaning leather, excess liquid must be removed immedi-ately
in order to avoid scars and pitting."
Yes, I think. This is just the stuff. I'm in the checkout line.
62 / Student Life
Between the Kaybeline "Lip Gloss" and the Kayboy Magazine, I
notice the KayBee Early Pregnancy Detection Device. The price
seems reasonable, I take five.
Through the electric, grape-colored doors steps Melanie
Young. She must come to the party tonight. We talk. Her eyes
are glazed a deep violet, and I can tell that we are in tune.
"Look," she says. We see several other young women from the
campus who seem non-plussed by the entire atmosphere. Three
of them stand in the next line, each holding a carton of TAB and
a tube of Preparation "K."
I shrug my shoulders questioningly.
"Wrinkles," she assures me. "It shrinks pores and tightens up
skin."
The cashier nods in agreement, smiling broadly, the same
white teeth and the single, star-shaped crown as the infamous
"Rat-Lady." She begins to laugh. Quietly at first, building to a
great crescendo of guffaws. I panic, must escape. I think. The
nausea again. I head for the grape-colored doors. The lights . . .
I can feel the heat ... I sweat, and wipe purple beads of perspi-ration
from my brow.
I feel Melanie's hand on my shoulder and I know that she is
laughing too. Her hand, the sheer weight of it drives me to the
floor. I purple out! —Steve Weil
LIFESTYLES
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Campus
Life
66 / Student Life
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Student life / 67
CONFRONTING COED LIVING
Thirty-eight freshman girls co-existed on one floor of the
dorm. Two-hundred and sixty-six girls occupied the build-ing
— a conglomeration of female minds neatly tucked
away in their assigned cubicles. Of course men were
allowed to invade the female territory, but on our floor
there was a twelve hour limitation. Evidently, some parents
and administrators believed that if the time limit was vio-lated,
students would become overwhelmed by sexual
desires, and rampant promiscuity would result.
At any rate, the girls were never allowed to determine
when men could be admitted. While there was little open
protest, it did seem contrary to the philosophy that college
was the place where young adults learned the meaning of
freedom and responsibility.
Well, that was freshman year, and before I knew it, I was
a sophomore in a coed dorm. There was, of course, the
hassle of convincing my parents that coed dorms were not
dens of sexual activity. After all, I argued, neighborhoods
are not segregated by sex, and our young neighbors were
certainly not lusting after one another. In fact, real life is
simply not partitioned into men's living space and wom-en's
living space. My parents reluctantly accepted my argu-ments,
but only after expressing their reservations on the
moral stability of my entire generation.
I headed back to school feeling rebellious. I had defied
my parents' standards. I was anxious to get on with the
business of living — with real live men.
Arriving at Paterson dormitory, I hastily moved into
room 124 and discovered that my neighbor across the hall
was female. She was a junior engineering student and a
veteran of one year's coed living. She seemed fairly talka-tive
and I felt comfortable enough to reveal my curiosity. "I
thought Paterson was a coed dorm," I began, trying not to
sound too forward.
She stared, and matter-of-factly replied, "I haven't seen
any guys around, if that's what you mean."
"You mean they don't live here?" I said, completely dis-mayed.
"Allegedly, they occupy third floor and some of the
suites outside, but they don't mix much with the girls on
the hall."
"Well then, what's the point of living in a coed dorm?"
"You gotta live somewhere," she replied curtly.
68 / Student Life
Was that all that was behind "progressive coed living?" I
wasn't satisfied, "Is Irby like Paterson? I thought Irby was
supposed to be a good coed dorm, or at least better than
Paterson?"
I thought my views on coed housing could be salvaged. I
knew lrb\ was sexually integrated. I placed my last hopes
on Irbv's reputation. She began to get impatient with my
inquiry and replied sarcastically that she couldn't know,
since she'd never lived there. She did condescend to intro-duce
me to her roommate, a three year veteran of dormi-tory
living w ho had spent two years at Irby.
I repeated b\- question about Irbv, but I couldn't tell if
she was listening to me or the Dylan album on her stereo.
On my third try, she seemed to comprehend and turned
down the \olume in order to answer v\'ithout screaming.
"Irby is a real fine dorm. I mean,
Paterson is desolation row com-pared
to Irby. In essence, Paterson
is pseudo-coed, whereas, Irby is
ihe real thing. Of course, just liv-ing
in Irby doesn't mean girls will
meet more guys. People live in
suites, so you still have to make an
effort to meet your neighbors."
Much relieved, I asked, "Do
people do it? Do people get to
know each other? Do men and
women live together as friends?"
My enthusiasm was building, but
she seemed rather bored with the
subject.
"If you're looking for someone
to tell you that coed dorms are
social Utopias, it ain't me, babe.
I'm not going to be the one to tell
you Ihat."
"You mean, you didn't like
Irby?"
"\o, I thought it was the best
Tulane had to offer, but I'm not
sure it was as coed as it could have
been. Look, it's like this: You have
lo realize that nothing is as good
as it's supposed to be. If you want
coed life, move to Irby."
"Well, if Irby is so much better,
Ihan why are you living at Pater-son?"
"Simple twist of fate," she said,
turning up Ihe volume for "Tan-gled
Up In Blue." I took the less
Ihan subtle him and headed for
lhedor;r.
Thus my initial experience with
coed life began disappointingly.
As Ihe year prrjgressed, I noticed a change had come over
my hall. The male population seemed to increase. How-ever,
housing had nothing to do with it. Cerlain rooms just
happened to acquire a third roommate. In fact, four of len
rrxjms harJ a male resident.
from Ihal semester on, I realized thai whether or not a
dorm was called coed was siriclly a function of University
policy. When students want lo cohabilale, they cohabi-taie.
I srwn dismissed my thoughts on coed life. College
sfems lo provide more Ihan enough existential dilemmas.
However, when ASB elections were announr ed, thr' cfjed
controversy resurfaced. One of the candidates fr-li rjbli
gated to prf.»mise panaceas for all ills and inclufJeci an
•nr reasf- in r r;ed rJorms as part of his lif kr-i's platform. His
major emphasis was on Ihe library, but evidently he real-
•zed Ihat education extended beyond Ihe academic
sphere,
I decided lo press Ihe issue, so I asked, "What difference
L.*:^.*.'*^-
does it really make if we have coed dorms or not? As long
as students have a room, what difference does it make who
lives above him, below him, or next door?"
The candidate carefully straightened his tie, composing
himself before answering. "Our university, being the fine
university that it is, also has fine students. Now I've polled
these students and they want coed dorms, so I think it's a
good idea to provide more coed living."
Feeling as though he had failed to address himself to my
question, I posed the same query to his opponent.
Attempting to appear more casual, and "in-tune" with the
average student, he began slowly, "I understand what
you're saying. I've lived in the dorms here for four years.
I've noticed that there is a distinct schism between the
guys and girls here. The girls have the mystique of being
Newcomb bitches, the boys are
^^, known as inept clods who lack
fJK^ I class. I think more coed dorms
*/TuB I would help the students overcome
'''•^^B 1 these stereotypes. By living
together, you get a feel for the
day-to-day problems. You don't
just see someone's carefully
groomed Saturday night appear-ance,"
No doubt, this candidate had a
plausible explanation. Coed dorms
could be the panacea for all
Tulane's social problems. People
would see each other as real peo-ple,
doing real life things like clip-ping
toe nails and flossing teeth.
(A bit like Blake's argument which
contended that even Divine
Angels had to use the bathroom.)
Living together would undoub-tedly
help us to see each other in a
different light.
I felt I had finally obtained the
ultimate understanding of coed
dorms. With this new insight, I
could comprehend why they were
called 'coed' dorms. Coed is an
abbreviation for coeducational,
and an institution wouldn't be
called that unless people of both
sexes learned something.
Returning to my room after the
candidates' forum, I noticed Mon-roe
and Sharp. For the first time, I
contemplated Ihe number of male
human beings enclosed in the
neatly stacked, box-like rooms. For
all those residents, coed dorms
were an irrelevant subject.
For all its former mystique, the essence of coed living
seems beneficial. For the student in quest of a critical cam-pus
issue, coed life has lost most of its controversial com-ponents.
Parents and administrators now know that stu-dents
can live and learn in inl(>grated facilities, not as
promiscuous adolescents, but as responsible adults. —
Alice Oppenheim
Student Life / 69
70 / Student Life
student Life / 71
SEX ON CAMPUS
It's 2:00 A.M. and you're standing at the front door of ).L. — just having returned from a night on the town, begin-ning
with dinner at Commander's Palace and ending with
one too many Hurricanes at Pat O's. As your date stumbles
up the steps, the moment you've been waiting for all eve-ning
approaches. You shut your eyes, pucker up and turn
rapturously toward her anticipating an endless night of
revelry. Suddenly something brushes your cheek and with
a brief, "Thanks for the evening," leaving you alone and
bewildered as you return to Monroe through the cold
damp night.
Sound familiar? If it does, you're not alone. This appears
to be the general consensus, according to a Jambalaya sur-vey
conducted this semester of Tulane's "liberated males"
looking for warm emotional relationships with, what they
perceive to be, Newcomb's cold, callous females.
The Newcomb girls, on the other hand, seem quite satis-fied
with their sex-life at Tulane. Most have steady boy-friends
and are oblivious to the frustrated males remaining.
The Jambalaya distributed surveys to 200 students at ran-dom
through campus mail, on the sexual values and prac-tices
at Tulane. The respondents' ages ranged from 18 to
25. Of the 35 students responding, 17 were females and 18
males. Three males and three females reported that they
were virgins. The remaining 29 lost their virginity anywhere
from ages 12-19, the average age being 16.
Although a few found that their first sexual experience
lived up to their expectations, the majority were disap-pointed
and found subsequent sexual encounter more sat-isfying.
The questions in the survey included such topics as
promiscuity, the double standard, sexual partners, the sex-ual
revolution, and the sexual atmosphere at Tulane.
The first category dealt with sexual obligations and pref-erences.
Most of the male respondents stated that they did
not expect any form of sex in return for a particularly
expensive date.
"No! That's prostitution — if I really want it, I know
where to get it, not on a date however."
Senior, Male, Virginia.
"I only work on a mutual 'Lefs F—' basis. If she is a 'gold
digger,' I don't want her anyway! What's money got to do
with it? I'd get a whore if it was for money."
Sophomore, Male, Delaware.
"Sometimes, it depends if I'm after the girl or she's 'just a
friend' (not necessarily meaning intercourse)."
Senior, Male, New York.
However, a few felt that they should be sexually
rewarded for money spent.
"Yes, but not necessarily in proportion to the amount
spent."
Grad., Male, Alabama.
"By any form of sex . . . yes . . . at least a good night
kiss. I don't expect to be treated as a stranger."
Grad., Male, New Orleans.
"No, I won't spend a lot of money unless I know I'm
gonna get it."
Sophomore, Male, NewJersey.
Many of the female respondents felt they were expected
to have sex with men who spent a lot of money on them.
"/ don't feel obligated, but I think guys think I feel, or
should feel that way."
Freshman, Female, Texas.
"No, I don't feel obligated, but sometimes I feel guilty
and I think my date expects me to feel obligated."
Freshman, Female, Missouri.
"No, I used to and it's still an uncomfortable feeling, but
assertion!" Senior, Female, Florida.
72 'STUDtNT LIFE
"No, I've never made any sort of promises that hinged
on mv date spending 'x' numbers of dollars on me. That's
ridiculous! I'm from a very Southern family, brought up to
be put on a 'pedestal!' If a date wants to spend a great deal
of money on me that's fine (I'll enjoy it!) but a walk in the
park can mean just as much, or even more when you're
enjoying yourselves without pretenses."
Freshman, Female, Georgia.
When asked to number the following in order of their
importance to sex, the most popular configuration appears
here.
1. being in love
2. friendship
3. romance
4. passion
5. non-romantic love (deep caring)
6. long-term commitment (marriage)
Both sexes seemed to feel that an emotional commit-ment
was desirable in sexual relations. People expressed
distaste for one-night stands and with almost all finding
them mentally dissatisfying. The large majority of females
had never had a one night stand and had no desire to expe-rience
one. While all of the sexually experienced males had
had them, most found them degrading and were looking
for more emotional involvement.
"For me, a lot of times it's more trouble than it's worth,
or it's embarrassing to find out what you've done after
you've gotten loaded the night before. But there are excep-tions
when a strange series of events can lead up to a one
night stand which becomes very memorable."
Grad., Male, New Orleans.
"One night stands are not satisfying in any way, if fact, I
think they can make a person feel used."
Sophomore, Female, Alabama.
"They are satisfying physically, but mentally they create
more havoc than the physical pleasure merits."
Freshman, Female, Texas.
"Physically, there are certain tensions and anxieties that
are best relieved through orgasm. There is also something
attractive about having sex with
someone you probably won't
see again. The one night stand
offers both of these. Succinctly,
one night stands are chances for
physically gratifying 'no hassle
sex.' Mentally, if you haven't
used any kind of contraceptive,
you get a little worried about
pregnancy. Also, both of you
have to understand that, after
il'i over, you expect nothing
else. If this isn't understood,
you have obviously conned the
girl into sleeping with you and
you might feel guilty when you
don't 'call her' as you promised.
She will feel like a sucker when
you don't call her, and the next
time you run into each other it
may he embarrassing. Chances
are you'll never he friends
af^ain. After one or two one
nighlers you begin to realise
how stupid it all is, and you start
going to a bar to talk to women
rather than pick them up."
Senior, Male, Virginia.
"Yes, in the past two years, I have totally abandoned the
taboos of conventional morality, except in the areas of
incest, sex with children, and marital infidelity. I have
replaced this list of don'ls with an ethical formulation that
iays, in short: Mature sex is good. Immature, unemotional
iex is not. Sex, as relief only, is not ethical, but I make it the
individual's decision as to when sex is truly an expression
of caring. Of cc/urse most will decide wrong."
lunior, Male, Dallas.
When asked whether they were sal isf iff) with ihcir (jrcs
ent sex lives, the replies were varied.
"No, the general atmosphere at Tulane plays all those
pretty games with sex, andit is hard to cut through them in
initial encounters. It doesn't seem like too many men
would like, or be able to handle, sexual friendship."
Freshman, Female, Texas.
"Yes, because plenty of sex is available to me at all times,
and I make all of my own decisions."
Senior, Female, Miss.
"No, it's not that I don't have girlfriends, it's just that
they're not too horny and I like women on the warmer
side. Newcomb has a lot of cold, frigid, bitches."
Sophomore, Male, Delaware.
"I am completely satisfied because my boyfriend is older
than I am and is experienced. Therefore he knows how to
please me. He also loves me and it is nice to be able to
share our emotions through sex."
Sophomore, Female, Alabatna.
"Once you have some experience behind you, consist-ency
and skill become more important than frequency."
Senior, Male, Virginia.
"No, how many 'well hung' males do you see around
here? I'm horny, but I'll live.
"
Senior, Female, Florida.
The final and perhaps most encompassing question con-cerned
the existence of the sexual revolution and its
effects at Tulane. Those polled were asked to write a brief
essay on the topic.
"The sexual revolution tried to accomplish too many
things in too short a time, thus it overstepped itself and
became unreasonable. Now there is a tendency to return
to past values, including fidelity, etc., so that things are
back where they started from. This is not exactly true,
because now there is an awareness. People are aware of
bad sexual values and are trying to change them. So there is
greater equilibrium."
Sophomore, Female, Conn.
"Yes, I think there has been a sexual revolution, just as
there has been a revolution in every other major issue in
the late sixties and early seven-ties.
By revolution, I mean a
major change in attitudes which
happened very quickly; so
quickly that we are still recover-ing.
Due to radical methods
used, society did not have time
to adjust to its changing moral-ity
and was thrown directly into
a hard-core world full of sex,
drugs, rock, and chaos. Only
now are we beginning to realize
that being aware of our own
sexuality is not shown by f-everything
in sight. Fmotionless
sex is not a catharsis of the same
feelings through mere orgasm,
as through sex with feeling. I
think the overall revolution has
been good. When people finally
reach an equilibrium they will
not be prudish, having already
experienced freedom, but will
be open and able to accept sex
and use it advantageously, with-out
abusing it. Right now, the
gay revolution is a few steps behind the sexual revolution
in that, while 'coming out of the closet,' gays are taking
advantage of their new found freedom through promiscu-ity
"
'' junior. Female, New York.
"Sexual activity has always existed, it's just talked about
more now. It has always been O.K. to screw, but has been
taboo to discuss openly sexual preferences, hang-ups, etc.
The so-called 'revolution' has allowed us to relax these
restric lions somewhat. "
^^.^^^^^ ^^,^ Virginia.
Ml 11)1 : il I II I / /i
74 / Student Life
Student life/ 7!i
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76 / Student Life
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Student Life / 77
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IJbrniLEed tkmnllor) Hrjuj> Ait
Ri)mtd B; Dniimlly Scniir
lames M. Ciaravella |r.
Iiihn M. Devlin
VVacle Hanks
liLu.
Ronald Gurtler
Charles lord
Mcrvin H, Morchi'i(>r
^'-f
^f .Ml^,,
rarlcr Morse
I )oiinl,is S, Myers
Student Life / 9}
In his early college years, Devlin was more conservative
and in favor of the war, but as a senior in law school, he
became politically liberal, and actively opposed the War.
After graduation, he found that Tulane, in addition to
reputation, had a "common sense, level headedness about
it." He says that Tulane's name is important, catching peo-ple's
attention as a mark of distinction.
Ronald Curtler graduated from Tulane with a degree in
political science in '68. Mr. Curtler is currently a consulting
attorney for a firm in New Orleans. Married as a sopho-more
and a father as a junior, his activities were primarily
work, his family, and Air Force R.O.T.C.
Curtler remembers that R.O.T.C. was quite exciting at
times. Whenever the peace advocates confronted them
during their drills, they would leave and let them have the
field. He stated that the cadets had orders to rescue the
flag if it was attacked, however, and that on two occasions
he and his fellow cadets had to "protect it from groups
numbering in the hundreds."
Curtler did not go to war, and explains that he saw the
R.O.T.C. program as a way of completing four years of col-lege
without being drafted. Upon graduation, he received
a deferment from the Air Force and entered Law School.
After acquiring his |uris Doctorate, he began active duty
and served in the intelligence area.
A '68 English major. Wade Hanks is presently a self-employed
cinematographic and still photographer doing
advertising work, primarily for television. As an undergrad-uate,
he was a photographer for the Jambalaya and the
Hullabaloo and a member of the Sigma Chi Fraternity. Still
a resident of New Orleans, he remembers doing "a lot of
drinking," and Tulane's reputation as a "big party school."
Hanks discovered that Tulane's name did not help him at
all, and that after graduation, most people were finding it
"extremely difficult to find jobs. Employers regarded col-lege
kids as 'rebellious.'
"
Hanks remembers Professor Norman Boothby as being
an excellent instructor. He admits that he enjoyed Tulane,
but would not attend college if he were to do it all over
again.
.A Civil Engineering major in '68, Mervin Morehiser is
now a practicing civil engineer in New Orleans. As a hard-working
engineer, he had time for few extracurricular
activities, other than playing intramural football.
"Most people were pro-war in the early years, but
changed as the war progressed. The Vietnam War," he
states, "was staring us in the face." Morehiser was in an
engineering lab on the evening that President Johnson told
a national television audience that he was not going to
seek re-election, and remembers shouts of joy and surprise
over the announcement.
College was "falling into a four year long rut." Morehiser
notes that the problem at that time was not getting a job,
but getting drafted. He was drafted, and was sent to Korea
after working with the Corps of Engineers.
He also commented that Tulane graduates are treated
with a certain deference.
The President of the '68 Senior Class of A&S was eco-nomics
major Carter Morse. A Kappa Sig, he played on the
tennis team as a freshman and played on the Pan-Hellenic
athletic league. In '78, he is a tennis professional and direc-tor
of an indoor tennis organization.
Morse remembers Dr. Erskine McKinley as the professor
who gave him a "solid overview of the international mone-tary
system." His mother had attended Newcomb, and he
wanted to come to New Orleans, the "cosmopolitan city of
the South."
Morse regards himself as "one of the old patriots; one of
the few straight people to come out of my class." As a
result of his patriotism, he joined the Army and went to
fight with the artillery in the jungles of Vietnam.
Morse adds that the main groups present when he was at
Tulane were: the anti-war group, the drug group, the pre-med
group, the pre-law group, and those few who had no
group.
Mentioning the fact that Tulane seemed to impress most
people, he was enthusiastic in his reply that he "would
sure do it all again."
Presently residing in Rochester, New York, Morse offers
some advice to economics majors who are considering
entering the job market after graduation. Recalling his
experience as an employee of two major corporations, he
advises, "An undergraduate degree is worthless. Unless
you have an M.B.A., you progress to a certain level and no
further."
Part owner of a clothing department store in Virginia
94 / Student Life
Beach, Douglas Myers was a senior history major in '68. A
member of the Zeta Beta Tau Fraternity, he worked for the
lambalava and the Hullabaloo.
He remembers Professor Radomir Luza of the History
Department as a "dynamite professor. He was the first per-son
to turn me on to learning and the learning experi-ence."
Reflecting upon the Vietnam War as an influence on stu-dents'
lives, he states, "Half of us got drafted, and the other
half went to law school to get out of the draft."
Myers considers coming to Tulane "the best of choices,"
as he liked the diverse types of people and the cosmopoli-tan
atmosphere.
Myers found his first paying job after graduation, which
involved selling books in a department store, very frustrat-ing.
He felt that he was "not qualified to do anything," and
that all Tulane had taught him was "how to think."
Myers feels that he had experienced somewhat of a rev-olution
against the establishment, as attitudes toward the
war drifted from popular conservatism to liberalism. He
regards the period as a "difficult time for people of our
age."
Proud of Tulane and his experiences here, he comments:
"Tulane did leach us how to be human, and that's more
important than anything."
In '68, the president of the School of Architecture was
Charles Lord, )r. About the Vietnam War, Lord asserts that,
"ll was the single most important thing in my life in terms
of the way in which I planned my life in college." After los-
'"^ his deferment because of falling one year behind in the
hiteclure program, he joined the Navy Reserve to avoid
ng drafted: "I did not want to participate in ihf military
-jII," he admitled, Hovvever, he regarderj thf Reserve as
' only interim solution.
Viewing the war as a "morally corrupt^ livily," Lord
'fiose to study architecture and its role ir^^ ciely, rather n actually participating in the formal study of arrhilec -
'• He comments Ihal he never wanted to produce banks
ither structures financed and promoted by mulli-rorpo-
"dfxganizat ions "supportive of overt capitalism,"
lis generation, ar eroding to lord, was a very important
". The demcinsiralions based on student activity finally
1 force Ifjhnson's resignation,"
His experiences in college led to his co-founding an
organization known as "Antfarm," with which he is pres-ently
working. Antfarm's goal is to seek alternative archi-tecture,
as it is representative of a movement of people
working outside the system for social change. Through
Antfarm, he has delved into the art world, especially
video tape medium.
In 1975, Lord helped coordinate the staging of an event
as an art performance called Media Burn, in which the
driving of a customized Cadillac into a wall of burning tel-evision
sets was videotaped. For his efforts in Antfarm,
Lord was selected to represcnl the United States in Ihe
Intornational Art Surveys Bieviennali of Paris and Docu-menta
of Caslle, West Germany.
He has lectured in various colleges, such as Temple and
Carnegie-Mellon University. Currently living in San Fran-cisco,
Lord believes that Tulane's ndino does not carry a
dislinction comparable lo Ivy U^igiic s( hools.
Few of us can formulate a clear pi( ture of ourselves ten
years from now. Sometime in the not Irx) disUml Kilurc,
however, wIuti we are all firmly rooted in another phase of
our lives, another group of Tulane studenis may ask,
"Whatever happened to Ihe Class of •|978X-i-
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student Life/ 97
challenging work. Since this was a completely new scene,
unstructured as far as a script went, we began from a
totally improvisational point, working on neurotic ticks
which led us to the mind of an insane person. The scene
changed every night during performance as we learned to
react to the audience and each other.
"We achieved a feeling of madness, and at times there
was a fear of getting too close," said Madelaine Sable, one
of the Madmen.
An important part of the rehearsal process was spent on
the character's physicalizations. Banu Gibson Podewell,
Buzz's wife and a professional singer and dancer, choreo-graphed
the stage movement.
"To create a physicalization of a character, it's necessary
to get rid of all your own physical quirks," said Banu, "It's
like you have to start in neutral before you can go to first,
second, or third gear. Unfortunately most people start in
reverse."
Banu worked with each character in a different way. For
the soldiers, it was important to get a precise, uniform set
of movements. With the Duke and the Duchess, she con-centrated
on self-confidence demonstrated by fluid move-ments.
An image helped the actor who played the Cardi-nal:
"I suggested he use the idea of healing people when
he touched them," Banu said. "The Mad people were
developed individually according to how the actors had
developed their roles."
The introduction of music was a rehearsal technique
that helped everyone. One weekend, we did the show
over and over, to every imaginable type — Valentino Tan-gos,
Dixieland jazz, the Charleston, Chopin, Puccini, tuba
quartets. Cream, Toscanini, and Schoenberg. Music has a
marvelous way of influencing the mood of a show. It
injected new vitality into the show after we had been
rehearsing a long period.
Another rehearsal technique used was the complete run-through
of the play, with everything but words. We were
allowed to mouth out lines, but we weren't allowed to
even whisper. This forces the actors to look at one another
and to perfect their stage movements.
Doing live theatre can be a natural high. Creating a char-acter
is a very special type of communication. "It's magic
maybe. Maybe it's crazy to let a person get born out of a
bunch of typed pages," commented Kathy Paul. "You have
to believe in the character. You have to learn to love the
character, just as you love yourself so you can try to under-stand
why they do what they do — so that you can do it
yourself."
Nick Faust, who played the sinister Cardinal, said that,
"Being such a mean character is somewhat depressing. It
hurts me — being a character that doesn't react sympathet-ically.
It would hurt Nick Faust to see his friend Ben Prager
go crazy. But that's my job."
While the cast worked to perfect their roles, costume
designer, Dottie Marshall, worked with Buzz to develop
the visual image. The basic theme she sought to incorpo-rate
in the costuming was a world in transition moving
towards degradation. To achieve this, Dottie designed cos-tumes
in the same manner for both the Duke and the
Duchess. In the first act, their clothes are restrained and
protective of the body. By the last act, however, both are
wearing scruffy-looking clothes which are very open, espe-cially
around the neck. Bosola and Julia, being outsiders to
the court, were dressed accordingly. For example, while
98 / Student Life
the Duchess wore long, vertical gowns, in subdued colors,
lulia, the Cardinal's mistress, was dressed in a stylish bright
green costume. The mad people were dressed as grey,
shapeless forms. By the end of the show, the majority of
the central characters were dressed in grey in order to
emphasize the horror of the senseless murders.
Lighting designer William Baker achieved a cold, harsh
effect to emphasize the repressed WW I society of the
"Duchess." Baker also implemented numerous special
effects, including a stained glass window in the Cardinal's
study, and the prison scene, where the shadow of the jail
door is cast across the entire floor of the stage.
Professor George W. "Hank" Hondrickson, the Ihealre
Department's chief set designer was faced with the
dilemma of designing a set for a theatre in-the-round
where, frequently throughout the play, two separate
groups of characters would appear at the same time,
(x( hanging dialfjguc among themselves.
I Ic solvf'cJ the problem by utilizing a two levcjl set. Using
different prfjps and working with the lighting designer, the
set effectively served as the rf)yal palace, the CarcJinal's liv-ing
rjuartcrs, a garden outside of the palace, and the dun-geon.
In spite of all the time thai a cast an(J a prcxluction staff
.pcnrl in (jrcf^aration for a show, mistakes are bound to
\i,i\>\)ci\ during the performances. Luckily most of ours
were humorous, lor instance, the nighl Ihe gun slipped
down Paul Cr(;nvif h's p,inls as he re.u hed for it. Bosnia
' .irric backstagC' lo Icll us: "I knew soinclliing was wrong
,vli''ii I f ame on stage ,ind s,iw I'.ini d.nK ing,"
Student life / W
And then there was the night that four-year old Bret
Bishop got out on stage too soon and yelled, "Hi Mommy,"
just as Cariola announced that a son had been born. The
Cardinal once threw the cloak over Julia's head instead of
at her and the Duke had to "give my tear to my fist,"
because he couldn't get his handkerchief out of his
pocket. The show had two echo scenes one night, when
Randy Mekey didn't get out on stage in time and shouted
his lines from the wings.
100 / Student Life
There's a story that, when writing Macl^elh, Shakespeare
put a curse on the play, and any production thereafter was
to be ill-lated. For a while we began to suspect the curse
had spread to "The fJuchess of Malfi," as the casualty list
among the cast and crew began to grow steadily. During
the two performance weeks, Kathy Paul and one of the
crew came down with pneumonia, three members of the
cast got bronchitis, while another fiv(> caught lh(> flu. 1 he
Assistant Director was forced to hobble around on
c rut( hes after suffering an accident. One cast memt^er had
[(> drop out completely because^ of a ncwous (ondilion.
And, one night, Paul Cronvich (Antonio) never made it to
the theatre at all. (Bu/z hatJ to take his plac (\)
Curse or no curse, the show must go on. Kathy Paul went
on stage, despite her illness. When Paul Crcjnvic h was una-ble
to make it to the performance that one night, Hu/z
look his |)la( c'.
"My responsibility of the entire day," explained one cast
memfjer, "is for those moments on stage. It's a very special
thing thai we do and it's worth all the wfjrk we have to put
in, and all the sacrilic (.'s we have to make."
Working with the same people for seven weeks, some as
intjf fi as J'l ',() hours a week, creates a st)iril of < am.ir.iderie
among the crew antJ cast. The fatigue, the illness, the
emergr'nrics, lh(! frustrations, and (he anxiety only bring
/Mil 'loser together, lih' liu// -..Jid, "Mie nit est thing
.ib'iiii ilicilic i', iIt- di'pi'iidcm y on pi'oplc." — Debbie
Niederhoffer
Student lift' / 101
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^&2imudent Life
A.'-'
.^Mmi
Tulane is awakening to the fact that it
holds a permanent art collection of high
quality, which is, in fact, the second oldest
collection of its kind in the South. William
Cullison, the collection's curator, is exuber-ant
about its excellence, and interested in
finding a new home for the works, most of
which are housed in the Special Collections
Division at Howard Tilton Memorial Library,
The original Tulane Museum was located
on the fourth floor of Gibson Hall; it included
both an art section which consisted of indi-vidual
and collective donations, and an
anthro-ethnological section which, accord-ing
to Cullison, was "incredible," with
stuffed birds, skeletons, bisons, an elephant,
and Egyptian mummy cases. At this time, the
art history department was non-existent and
there was little interest in the collection; it
was finally dismantled in the late thirties and
scattered about the campus. The collection
became thus impossible to administer, and
part of it was damaged.
Cullison was named Curator of University
Art Collections by the Board of Administra-tors
in 1976, Also that year, at the Annual
Report of the University Senate Committee, a
President's Committee was set up for advi-sory
purposes concerning the collection,
both for Cullison and President Hackney. A
budget of one thousand dollars per year was confirmed for
the purposes of art restoration.
Under Cullison's supervision, the paintings were restored,
cleaned, and reframed. This process cost as much as four
hundred dollars per painting and created a real financial bur-den.
Mr. Lloyd Young, a Louisiana Art Conservator who is
highly respected in his field, restored most of the works
under Cullison's supervision, and generously did so without
payment until the budget was established in 1976.
The collection at present, consists of over 200 paintings and
more than 1000 prints and drawings. It comprises five major
sections: Louisiana art, Newcomb art, American art, prints,
and architectural drawings. Much of the work is not dis-played
and can be found in University Archives, the Rare
Book Room of the library, the manuscript stack, the Special
Collections Room, the work area of the Special Collections
Division, and the attic of the art building.
Much of the collection is in less than perfect condition,
due to inadequate finances. A lovely Scottish landscape by
Alfred K, Brown displays a huge gash. The marble statue of a
"Dancing Girl" is missing her counterpart, who was stolen
from the Longenecker's porch, A weathering "Indian and
Maiden" behind Warren Dormitory ought to be moved
inside, but the expense cannot be met at this time.
Despite these problems, the collection boasts some inter-esting
and important works. Through the years, some dona-tions
have been rejected because of financial inability to
104 / Student Life
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maintain them. However, important donations (nave been
accepted, including an excellent collection of American art
donated by the Woodward brothers, William and Ellworth,
who established the university's architectural and art pro-grams,
respectively. The entire collection essentially centers
around their donations. The first substantial donation to the
collection was (he Linton-Surgpt donation. In 1899, (he Iwo
Lintcjn sisters, who were married \o the two Surget brothers,
donated some excellent examples of 19th century art. The
donation included portraits by Henry Inman (1801-1846):
paintings by John Cadsby Chapman; sculptures by Thomas
Crawfcjrd, Hiram Powers, and Randolf Rcjgers; and, a land-scape
by impressicjnist Frank Boggs.
In 1971, Mrs. Oorcjthy Spencer Collins donated a collec tif)n
of Southern paintings, prints, and maps which depic I Louisia-na's
hislc^ry. The collection is part of the Walker liraincrd
Spencer Ccjileclicjn. A 19lh century Thai temple hanging (A
ihe Bangkok Schc;ol and a rare Chinese Krjssou are inc luded.
The William B. WiscJom Collection of more than fifty works
by lale 19lh century and early 20lh century Louisiana arlists
features oils by l^rysdale. Millet, and Knule Helder.
The prints section of Ihe division is outstanding and quite
diverse. It includes lithographs, engravings, and et( fiings,
many oi which pertain to New Orleans and Louisiana, An
inleresling ccjileclion f;f prints fjy Morris Llenry Holjbs
includes a series o\ etchings f;f hislori^al builcJings in the
Vieux Carre,
The photography collection is extensive
and consists of over 11,000 prints and nega-tives,
many revealing New Orleans as it was
years ago. Included in this collection are
some pieces of early carnival art, with designs
by Wikstrom and Drvsdale for costumes and
floats.
The Architectural Drawings Collection has
30,000 drawings, comprising one of the larg-est
architectural archives of the southeastern
United States.
The immediate concern of both Cullison
and the President's Committee is to find a
permanent art museum to house the collec-tion
on Tulane Campus. The Sasaki Associ-ates,
a group of architectural planners from
Massachusetts, were hired this year to design
a masterplan for future construction on the
Uptown campus. They recommended that an
art museum be placed in what is now the
Newcomb gym, and that a separate building
be constructed beside it for additional space.
If the Sasaki plan is carried out the collection
could then be used in conjunction with the
university's fine arts program. According to
Cullison, the art history department could
then relocate in the museum for study and
research purposes.
The Sasaki plan is the first step in bringing
Tulane's extensive art collection out of the
attic and into a permanent home.
Student life / Wy
PHOTOGRAPHS BY DUDLEY SHARP
'fmmetmmmmm.
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Dr. Henry Braden
®B»aeja»3W?'.ifiE?^.«s-«re(SrOTiaHf
Less than 15 years ago, Tulane University, like all venera-ble
Southern institutions, refused to admit blacks. Today,
Henry Braden III, a black doctor and community leader,
helps run the place.
Appointed to the Board of Administrators this spring. Dr.
Braden fills the seat vacated by Frederic Ingram.
"It's a hell of an honor to serve as an administrator for an
institution such as Tulane," the New Orleans native
explained.
Educated at Xavier and Meharry Medical College in
Nashville, Braden brings an impressive list of credentials to
the post, having served on the Board of Governor's of
Tulane Medical Center and as Chairman of the Center's
Board of Directors. He was also appointed by President
Johnson to the National Advisory Committee on Education
of the Deaf.
Braden identified Tulane's most pressing problem as the
increasing cost of higher education. "Universities con-stantly
need more and more money, and Tulane is no
exception."
He stressed that students must be awakened to the
importance of alumni donations, explaining that for every
dollar a student spends for tuition, "the school has to find
twice that much."
Braden supports Tulane's controversial athletic program,
explaining that much of the money donated by alumni is
earmarked for that program. He noted that of all the gradu-ates
of Tulane's eleven schools and colleges, those from
the Medical School give most generously, and many give
specifically to the football team. "Even the faculty from the
School of Medicine voted to support the athletic pro-gram,"
he asserted.
Labeling Tulane's integration efforts as "progressive,"
Braden maintained that the school has always adopted a
less conservative attitude than that of most Southern insti-tutions.
"Tulane has been a leader in the community and in
all the South, in giving an education to all people regard-less
of race, color, or creed."
Admittedly still unfamiliar with much of the University's
policy making procedures, Braden makes up for whatever
experience he lacks by his refreshing insight into Tulane's
myriad problems and his faith in its great potential.
108 / Student Life
Provost Robert Stevens
•'I'm 44 and the idea of being president of a university is
appealing," says Provost Robert Stevens of his recent
appointment to the presidency of Haverford College.
"Having the opportunity to be president of a very good
^f hool is too much to turn down."
Stevens, who takes office July 1, seemed flattered at
being named president of the Pennsylvania college. "They
approached me," he says, "and the interviews were embar-rassingly
painless."
Haverford's Presidential Search Committee reviewed
Stevens' resume and decided thai his strong scholarly
background was consistent with the "moral, ethical, and
social values of Quakerism."
Stevens, who will become Haverford's tenth president,
reflected on his two years serving as chief academic officer
and as budget officer for the academic divisions.
"The quality rjf an institutirjn is measured by the f^ualily
of the faculty and its commitment/' says Stevens. "But if
Tulane wants to retain its prominence as an undergraduate
institution, it must improve its teaching quality,"
Commenting on the teachings at Tulane, Stevens poinis
out, "We have the advantage of small classes, bui the f osl
vvp pay is loo great."
One of the costs, he claims, is that "we use far loo many
"As, at the very moment that the quality rjf graduate stu-flents
is falling in sfjme departments. Ilof^efully, this is
dngmg,"
With attrition problems in mind, Stevens commissioned
the First Year Report. With still another revision to undergo
before completion, he sees many benefits of such a report
dealing with student problems.
"It faces up to issues we need to face up to," says Ste-vens,
also a legal historian. Another step forward, accord-ing
to the Provost, is the Harbert self-study report, which
"is basically a statement of philosophy, defining what a lib-erally
educated man or woman should be.
"I have every expectation that the Harbert report will be
an important ingredient in re-thinking the contours of lib-eral
education," says Stevens.
"The report will help articulate and justify what Tulane
docs and why it does it. The statement of philosophy will
prove especially important in future years when there's
going to be increasing pressure on liberal education as the
number of students shrink,"
The self-study "could put Tulane back in the forefront of
liberal arts colleges," said Stevens, "And I very strongly
believe in a liberal arts s( hool," he adds, "or I wouldn't be
j^oing to Haverford."
According tc; Stevens, Tulane's next Provost should
"above all, keep a sense of humor and be prepared to work
like a cJog.
"Most imporlanlly, he should keep a sense of vision
about where the University is going,"
Student Life /109
EWORLD NEWS BRIEFS*
POLANSKI FLEES RAPE CHARGES
(Los Angeles) Film director Roman Polanski's lawyer informs California authorities that his client fled California
on September 1 to a town in France in order to avoid prosecution related to charges that he had sex with a girl
under the legal age of consent.
BERT LANCE RESIGNS POST
(Washington) Director of the Office of Budget and Management, Bert Lance's resignation is read bv President
Carter at a nationally televised news conference on September 21. Carter related that he still has faith in "my
friend," and said that despite allegations, "I think he was qualified then; I think he's qualified now." Carter's
popularity plunges to an all-time low as a result of his reluctance to force the resignation of his long-time
Georgia friend.
DAM BURST IN GEORGIA KILLS 39
(Toccoa Falls) Thirty-nine persons on the campus of Toccoa Falls Bible College in northeastern Georgia were
killed early November 6 when an earthen dam burst and flooded low-lying areas. Faulty construction was the
basis for blame surrounding the disaster. President Carter institutes nationwide testing of old dams in response
to accusations that other dams are also in disaster-prone condition.
SADAT lOURNEYS TO ISRAEL IN HOPES OF PEACE
(Tel Aviv) Egyptian President Anwar Sadat arrives in Israel November 19, marking the first visit by an Arali leader
to the Jewish state since it was established in 1948. Yet later, on January 18, the talks break down as Sadat
threatens to pull out of the Israeli-Egyptian peace negotiations because, according to Cairo, "All Israelis aim at
deadlocking the situation and submitting partial solutions."
STAR WARS STI RS ENTHUSIASM
(Hollywood) The movie "Star Wars" breaks all box office record sales, making over 100 million dollars for 20th
Century Fox Studio in nine months. The conquest of good over evil in the movie delights audiences of all ages,
and the catch phrase, "May the Force be with you," quickly becomes part of the American vocabularv.
FREDDIE LAKER FLIES TO SUCCESS
(New York) Freddie Laker's Skytrain takes the thrifty airborne traveler to London from New York at cut-rate costs.
With a high percentage of occupancy. Laker's success is guaranteed by the long lines at both ends of his
economical service.
KENNEDY FILES OPEN TO PRESS AND PUBLIC
(Washington) On lanuary 18 the Federal Bureau of Investigation releases the second installment of files covering
investigations into the assassination of President Kennedy. The files, containing transcripts from Congressional
hearings and Warren Commission documents, support the contentions of previously released files that Lee
Harvey Oswald had, acting alone, killed Kennedy, and that Oswald had been killed by Jack Ruby, acting alone.
TONGSUN PARK RETURNS TO U.S.A.
(Washington) South Korean businessman Tongsun Park returns to the U.S. to give testimony in the
Congressional hearings on the bribery scandal, popularly called "Koreagate." Under a blanket of immunity. Park
agrees to return to supply information which may implicate scores of Congressmen and Senators.
HUSTLER HEAD HURT
(Chicago) Larry Flint is ambushed as he and his lawyer leave a restaurant. The publisher of "Hustler" magazine
recently converted to Christianity by President Carter's sister, Ruth Stapleton, survives the shooting that leaves
him paralyzed from the waist down.
PANAMA CA\AL TREATY
(Washington) President Carter and Brigadier General Omar Torijos, Panama's chief of state signs the new
Panama Canal treaties at a ceremony in Washington on September 7. The U.S. U.S. Senate votes on March 16
to ratif\ the Tr Permanent Neutrality and Operation of the Panama Canal by a margin of 63-32.
110 DAY COAL STRIKE ENDS
(\\ ashington) After Carter moves to invoke the Taft-Hartley Act, miners of the United Mine Workers union
vote to ratify a new wage contract on March 25. Carter is prompted to invoke Taft-Hartley after the 100 day
coal strike causes U.S. coal reserves to drop to a dangerously low level. The strike originally began when
miners struck over cuts in health benefits. The miners were informed of the decreases on November 18, and
began striking en masse on November 25.
WOODY ALLEN SWEEPS ACADEMY AWARDS
(Hollywood) Subtle, zany humor seemed to be the order of the day as Woody Allen's film "Annie Hall"
receives the Oscar for the Best Picture of at the Academy Awards ceremony. Allen also wins an Oscar for Best
Director while his co-star of "Annie Hall, " Diane Keaton, picks up an Oscar for Best Actress.
WORST OIL SPILL IN HISTORY
(France) The oil tanker Amaco Cadiz crashes onto a reef near the coast of Brittany during a severe storm,
spilling 64.7 million gallons of crude oil. Heavy damage to the beaches results as the sea and coastline are
covered with the oil.
DUKE GETS UNROYAL RECEPTION IN ENGLAND
(London) David Duke, the Grand Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan, after weeks of evading Scotland Yard, is served
a deportation notice in front of a pub. Duke had promoted his cause by asking that all foreigners in England
be gi\en money to return home.
THE CLONES ARE COMING
(Los Angeles) The cloning of body parts and of entire persons gains more credence in the scientific fields in a
series of revelations by authorities ranging from research scientists to authors who claim to know of the actual
cloning of complete bodies.
TERRORISTS ASSASSINATE FORMER PREMIER
(Rome) The body of former Italian Premier Aldo Moro is found May 8 in a Rome street gutter, after Italian
officials refuse to negotiate for his release with his terrorist kidnappers. The Red Brigade.—Wynn Howard
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ISSUES
INTERCOLLEGIATE ATHLETICS
VITAL OR VAUDEVILLE?
It was in 1978 that the faculty said no. Tired of decrepit
facilities, poor library services and low salaries, the faculty
mobilized to end a significant cause of the problems — the
continuing intercollegiate athletic deficit.
For twenty years, Tulane's athletic department had been
losing money. In the last decade the athletic department
averaged a deficit of 1 million dollars annually. When Pres-ident
Sheldon Hackney, the former provost of Princeton,
took office in 1975, there was a glimmer of hope among
the faculty that something significant would be done
about the athletic deficit. Hackney, after ail, had stated
during the selection process that, above all else, academics
must come first.
By the end of his first year, however, it had become read-ily
apparent that the new President, either succumbing to
pressure from influential alumni and the Board of Adminis-trators,
or simply having a change of heart, was not pre-pared
to do away with the intercollegiate athletic program
which was wreaking havoc with the University's financial
stability. In fact. Hackney did something of a 360 degree
turnabout.
"The decision I faced was a stark one," wrote Hackney in
1976, in a paper entitled "Perspectives from the President's
Office." "Get out of all intercollegiate athletics or find a
way to make football more successful . . . [for] football is
the only sport with any chance for generating revenue."
His new plan was to pour more money into the intercol-legiate
athletic program and transform it, eventually, into a
money-making venture. A new football coach was brought
in and a new athletic Director, Hindman Wall, was hired
mainly for his skills in publicity and other promotional
work. Their formula seemed logical. Publicize and pro-mote
the Green Wave teams enough and the New Orleans
sports fans would flock to see quality collegiate football
and basketball in the Superdome.
Armed with a spanking new $100,000 promotional cam-paign,
the 1976 football season opened under the banner
of the "Spirit of '76." Of course the whole thing flopped.
The team not only had another dismal losing season (2-9),
but by the end of the year the athletic deficit — again,
mainly attributed to football — crested at just over
Si ,400,000, a somewhat dubious record.
By this time, many of the faculty who had served on the
Presidential Search Committee must have been alarmed at
their candidate's performance. Yet they waited. After all,
there was still a chance that the new president could be
reasoned with. Nevertheless, by the beginning of 1977,
several key members of the faculty were becoming
increasingly militant about the issue.
When the final University budget for the fiscal 1977-78
year was presented by President Hackney to the University
Senate, composed chiefly of faculty, the Senate came very
close to voting against the continued funding of athletics.
The President, however, stoorJ his grr;und and was able to
contain the opprjsilirjn by gaining the support of the Sen-ate's
own Budgetary Review and Athletic Committees.
The resoluiifjns by the A&S, Newcomb, and Graduate
SchtKjl faculties, however, came as a surprise to the Tulane
community. Even Prrjfessrjr Masrjn, aulhfjrrjf the A&S reso-lution,
said he would have been willing to delay the issue
another iwrj years if it hadn't been for the $2.5 million dol-lar
Vincent grant which was bestowed upf;n the University
in 1977. The faculty was eagerly wailing to see how the
largest single private cfjntribulirjn to the University would
be divider] amr^ng the varirjus departmf.-nts, I hen fame
President Hackney's announcement that the Vincent con-tribution
would go into funds functioning as endowment,
which meant that they would become available to support
deficits incurred by the intercollegiate program. The Vin-cent
money, which the faculty had assumed would be
used for academic improvements, would instead be used
to finance the athletic department for another four or five
years. "In other words," stated Professor Munro Edmonson
(Anthropology), "the funds will go down the same familiar
rat hole."
This was the last straw for the faculty. The depth of the
gap which had arisen between the faculty and President
Hackney became apparent when professor after professor
spoke in favor of the resolution to abolish "big-time" inter-collegiate
athletics at the A&S Faculty meeting on Novem-ber
15:
Prof. Charles Davis (History): "The situation is simply
untenable. There is no way to bring the [athletic] deficit
under control. Why should the University continue paying
for public entertainment when it can't maintain its own
buildings, when we can't pay for adequate salaries for the
faculty? It's a stupid game to play."
Prof. Edward Ballard (Philosophy): "I oppose continua-tion
of the intercollegiate athletic program as a matter of
principle. Tulane is an institution of higher learning and
any other business is unappropriate for the University.
Why should we be financing semi-professional football?
It's inappropriate for us to engage in public amusement."
Prof. Donald Lee (Philosophy): "The problem is that
once the coach starts winning ball games he is going to
leave. One year he will fill the University's coffers, but then
he will leave. Ara Parsigian was at Northwestern until he
started winning, and then he went to Notre Dame. It hap-pens
over and over again. Even if he does produce a win-ning
team, the coach is going to leave as soon as he gets a
better offer, and we're back where we started again."
Opposition to the resolution came from the Physical
Education and R.O.T.C. staffs and Professor James T. Rog-ers,
Chairman of the Athletic Advisory Committee. Rogers
pointed out that discontinuing intercollegiate athletics
would not bring an immediate end to the financial losses.
The University, he said, would have to pay for broken con-tracts
with its new coaches, and scheduling commitments
well into the 1980's would bring severe financial penalities
if not honored.
"There is no good time to abolish an athletic program,"
retorted Professor Mason. "But once decided it must be
carried out."
The A&S Faculty passed the following resolution by a
vote of 101 to 12, with 5 abstentions:
In as much as intercollegiate athletics at Tulane Univer-sity
has led to a continued great waste of our limitecJ finan-cial
resources and thus to a weakening of our ability to ful-fill
our academic responsibilities, we, the faculty of the
College of Arts and Sciences, believe that the only solution
is to end such an athletic program. We, therefore c:all on
President Hackney to take the University out of "big-time"
dthlclif s by the encJ of the current season.
Three days later, the Newcomb faculty followed suit,
passing an identical resolution unanimoLisly, 8i-0. Profes-sor
Edward Partridge, who introtiuccci the Newcomb reso-lution,
echoed his colleagues' sentiments on the issue,
stating, "At first I ot)jecled to the phrase 'big-time' athlet-ics,
but then I suddenly remembered the context. The term
'big-time' came about with vaudeville. Then I realized how
the term was exact — shc;wbiz. We really (Jon't want that
lor lul-inc. I don't think the students w.int th.il cilhcr. They
Student Life / 115
don't pay $6,000 to come to be entertained."
Two weeks later the Graduate School Faculty passed a
similar resolution with a vote of 96 for, 11 against, and 8
abstentions. The Graduate School's resolution was the
final step in consolidating the professors of the entire Lib-eral
Arts and Science Complex into a solid front, adamantly
opposed to the continuation of "big-time" athletics at
Tulane.
Several other factors besides the Vincent grant influ-enced
the faculty to act. For one thing, the Budget Review
Committee had stated that the Athletic Department would
incur at least a million dollar deficit in the coming 1978-79
fiscal year. Second, this was the first year that all the other
departments on campus (excluding Athletics) would have
or be approaching a balanced budget. The argument used
in the past by the Athletic Department officials was that
they shouldn't be criticized for running a deficit when
other departments did the same. FHowever, this simply did
not hold water any longer.
The only exception to this show of fiscal responsibility
was the Medical School which continues to run a $2 mil-lion
dollar deficit annually. Interestingly enough, the Med-ical
School's Faculty was the only group to pass a resolu-tion
supporting the continuation of "big-time" athletics.
The faculty came to realize that they would have to be
the ones to take a stand against the continued athletic def-icits,
because it seemed no one else would. Professor
Mason pointed out that the Student Government on cam-pus
was "politically ineffective" and the Board of Adminis-trators,
although reported to be divided on the issue, ref-used
to make their opinions public. "The faculty members
are the only ones to take the initiative," said Mason.
The response from FHackney to the resolutions, which
came in the form of a letter published in the FHULLABA-LOO
the following week, was something considerably less
than the faculty had hoped for.
"The football team," wrote FHackney, "is a focal point for
pride and spirit in the University, providing occasions
which bring the community together for a common pur-pose."
Furthermore, FHackney wrote that the football team
serves a "most important link between alumni and friends.
"All of our 40,000 alumni went to a Tulane with a signifi-cant
intercollegiate program. All of the money that has
come to the University over the years has been given to a
Tulane that participates in intercollegiate athletics. Our
improving pool of applicants for the undergraduate divi-sions
has been attracted to a Tulane with intercollegiate
athletics.
"One tampers with such fundamental aspects of a ven-erable
institution only with great care and circumspec-tion,"
FHackney warned solemnly.
The same issue of the HULLABALOO in which Hack-ney's
letter appeared contained an article entitled "Schools
Nationwide Thrive After Discontinuing Football." The arti-cle
outlined six universities which had dropped their inter-collegiate
football programs and suffered no substantial
loss of alumni contributions or decline in their applicant
pools. The six schools were Georgetown, The University of
Tampa, Xavier University of Ohio, the University of Ver-mont,
the University of Detroit, and the University of Chi-cago.
One quote from Harold Metcalf, the Athletic Direc-tor
of the University of Chicago seemed particularly poign-ant.
"We tore down a 55,000 seat arena and erected the
largest academic building in existence," boasted Metcalf.
"That tells you something about our priorities."
Also in the same issue, the ARCADE magazine of the
HULLABALOO ran a full length feature story on Edmund
Mcllhenny. The Chairman of the Board of Administrators
discussed the faculty resolutions at some length. If the fac-ulty
had hopes of gaining a sympathetic ear from
Mcllhenny on the issue they were quickly dashed on the
rocks of 20 years of despair. In an attempt to discredit the
LAS (Liberal Arts and Sciences) faculty, he charged that
there had always been a group within the liberal arts fac-ulty
who were set against intercollegiate athletics. Rather
ironically, he then stated, "These groups point with pride
to the University of Chicago because that's the kind of
school they would like Tulane to emulate." It seemed
Mcllhenny was saying that Tulane's old nickname "The
Harvard of the South" should be changed to "The Ohio
State of the South."
Professor Mason immediately refuted the remark in stat-ing
that, "In the last ten years I've never missed a Tulane
game either in person or on the radio. Tulane has become
a kind of home for me and I feel some of the 'rah-rah'
spirit. But I would be somewhat of a coward if I didn't
speak out against the dangers of athletic deficits.
"I would support fully the deficits if students could
freely engage in sports, but football has become a business
and it must be looked upon as an unprofitable business at
Tulane," said Mason.
Professor William Gwyn, Chairman of the A&S Political
Science Department, characterized the scholarship ath-letes
as "paid gladiators."
"Intercollegiate football is not educational, it is an enter-tainment
we put on at great expense," said Gwyn. "Let's
put away these childish things and get down to the busi-ness
of running this University."
Mcllhenny went on to say that, "Tulane football still
holds a solid prospect for the University of making
money," and declared that, "the Board was prepared to
give Tulane football at least two more years."
Apparently two years was not quite what President
Hackney had in mind. In his November 18th letter he pro-posed
a plan whereby football would exist for at least a
minimum of five more years. According to the plan, the
athletic deficit would steadily decrease over a five year
period, reaching zero by the 1982-83 season.
The projections. Hackney wrote, are "honest, 'no mira-cle'
expectations." "I hope to do better," he continued,
116 /Student Life
"and will work particularK- hard to increase the levels of
support from the friends of Tulane athletics, but I cannot
guarantee that we will do better. I am, however, fully pre-pared
to be held to the above schedule of achievement at
each step of the wa\ ."
The statements made b\- Hackney and Mcllhenny left
the faculty at a standstill. Although the faculty resolutions
were politicalK' significant, the power for changing Uni-versitv
policy remains in the hands of Hackney and the
Board of .Administrators. The question that faces the fac-ulty
in the upcoming vear is, "Where do we go from here?"
Although none of the facult\' have seriously begun think-ing
of a resolution calling for the President's resignation, it
must be remembered that the LAS Complex resolutions
took most of the Tulane community by surprise this year.
Hackney, himself, stated that he is "fully prepared to be
held" to his annual projections for the intercollegiate ath-letics
deficit, "each step of the way."
Professor Mason is cautiously optimistic about the con-troversy.
"I don't think the President can go on forever
against the strong wishes of his faculty. No president of an
American University would want to be president when the
faculty is expressedly against his stand," said Mason.
But, would the faculty ever consider asking for his resig-nation
over the issue?
"The faculty is very attached to Hackney because they
believe that he is the very best possible man we could have
here for almost every other thing at Tulane," said Mason.
"But the Board cannot really run this University."
The Faculty resolutions to abolish "big-time" athletics at
Tulane seem to have had little or no effect on President
Hackney or the Board of Administrators. However, it is
hard to imagine that, if the faculty passed a similar resolu-tion
calling for the President's resignation, that Hackney
would stay in office. It would be too politically damaging.
If by chance, the faculty chose not to follow this course
of action, an interesting alternative was proposed by A&S
Senior Class President Nate Lee:
"When 1981 gets here and Hackney falls short, we will
dress him up as quarterback for the LSU game. If his faith
in the team is valid, the line will save him from the
onslaught of the vicious man-eating Tigers. He might even
score.
"If, however, the team doesn't quite live up to expecta-tions.
Hackney will learn his lesson. The symbolism will be
very appropriate: LSU's defensive back will be breaking
Hackney's back, just as the weight of 'big-time' athletics
will have broken Tulane's and LSU by then will be on top
smiling down at us.
"Besides, we could make up some of the losses with TV
rights and overflowing crowds of people waiting for the
first President to fumble a University with no hope for
recovery."—Greg Ptacek
Student Life / 117
CLA. ON CAMPUS
ET.U.
CONNECTION
It was just about one year ago that President Hackney
asked the University Senate Committee on Academic Free-dom,
Tenure, and Responsibility to establish guidelines
limiting the operation of intelligence organizations on the
Tulane campus. The request was rather frightening. Why
would guidelines be necessary unless there was some sort
of activity in the first place? Was it a mere precaution?
Not likely. The New York Times revealed in August of
1977 that the CIA had extensively infiltrated college cam-puses
around the nation like Cornell, Denver, Notre Dame,
Michigan, ad infinitum —and yes even Tulane.
Shortly after the beginning of the 1977-78 academic year
the campus newspaper. The Hullabaloo, initiated a cam-paign
for release of all the CIA files regarding the Univer-sity.
President Sheldon Hackney and Provost Robert Ste-vens
were, to say the least, less than enthusiastic about the
idea. In fact, they refused to file for release of the docu-ments
under the Freedom of Information Act of 1974,
although they did agree to request the files informally.
On February 15, Hackney admitted at a press conference
that the CIA had conducted drug tests here in the 1950's,
but refused to release the files obtained from the Agency
claiming that he was withholding the documents to pro-tect
innocent people. Hackney did agree to release a pre-pared
statement about the experiments within the next
few days, but in light of the fact that every proper noun in
the file had been deleted. Hackney's reasoning for with-holding
the documents seemed illogical.
On Wednesday, February 16, the Hullabaloo gained
access to information that the Army had paid a doctor at
the Tulane University School of Medicine to conduct
behavior modification tests with LSD-25 and mescaline.
The information also indicated that the tests were proba-bly
conducted on human subjects. A call to the CIA to con-firm
the information proved fruitless. "I heard you were
coming — I can't tell you anything," CIA Chief Counsel
Richard Singuegrana told me in a brief telephone inter-view.
That afternoon the Hullabaloo requested that the
University Senate Committee on Academic Freedom, Ten-ure
and Responsibility, and the Committee on Student
Affairs to join the newspaper in petitioning the CIA and
the US Army for release of files under the Freedom of
Information Act. Later that evening the Hullabaloo per-suaded
the ASB Senate to file for release of the documents.
On Monday, February 23, the Hullabaloo office was del-uged
with offers of assistance from numerous organiza-tions.
The American Civil Liberties Union offered their ser-vices
as legal counsel if the newspaper decided to take
eitfier the Agency or the University to court over release of
the documents. The Campaign to Stop Government Spy-ing,
an organization run by a former member of the
National Security Council named Morton Halperin, and an
affiliate organization called The Center for National Secu-rity
Studies, agreed to send the Hullabaloo declassified
intelligence documents concerning Tulane.
On Tuesday, February 24, Hackney was grilled by Hulla-baloo
editors at a press conference. They contended that
the newspaper had a legal right to see the documents. The
Hullabaloo editors claimed that if the Agency had released
the documents to the University, then they must have
been declassified and, therefore, a matter of public record.
Hackeny, however, refused once more to release the docu-ments.
The thought of an impending court battle was
becoming a real possibility. If Hackney's statement which
was still forthcoming proved adequate, plans for litigation
by the Hulabaloo would be scratched. The waiting game
began.
In the weeks to follow, the Hullabaloo learned that
Tulane was on a CIA list of 250 colleges and universities
where they actively recruited new agents and other
employees. It was unknown if covert recruiting had been
done at Tulane; however, the Agency had overtly recruited
on the campus for years. In fact, the CIA had been regular
clients of the Hullabaloo advertising department. During
these weeks it was also disclosed by a former CIA agent
that two former top level CIA officials were Tulane grads.
118 / Student Life
On Tuesdas, March 28, six weeks after it was promised.
President Hackney released his statement concerning the
documents received from the CIA. The statement revealed
that in 1957 the CIA had contracted Dr. Robert Heath, a
bio-pschiatrist at the Tulane University School of Medi-cine,
to conduct tests with a drug called Bulbocapnine on
three monkeys and on a human \olunteer, in order to
determine its potential in the realm of mind control. The
statement further contended that the drug proved to be
harmless and ineffective, and that the New York Times,
possessing the same documents that the administration
now held, had reported these facts in their August 2 article,
mentioned pre\iously. A quick review of the New York
Times article revealed, however, that Dr. Heath had denied
conducting any tests whatsoever for the CIA involving
human \olunteers. Furthermore, New York Times reporter
Nicholas Harrock told the Hullabaloo that the Times never
had the CIA documents in question.
On Wednesday, March 29, the Hullabaloo was finally
able to obtain access to the CIA documents concerning
Tulane from an outside source. Hackney's comments on
the experiments were found to be accurate. Furthermore,
the documents showed that Heath had conducted the
tests with the utmost care and professionalism, and that he
had received no compensation from the Agency for his
efforts.
On Thursday, March 30, Dr. Heath agreed to an inter-view
with the Hullabaloo Editor-in-Chief Brad Steitz and
myself. Heath stated that in 1957 when he conducted the
experiments, the CIA had feared that the Communists had
reportedly found an amazing new mind control drug.
Agents had smuggled it out of the Soviet Union and rushed
it to Heath in New Orleans. With the nations in the throes
of the Cold War, Heath pointed out that he did the tests
because he felt it was his patriotic responsibility.
As it turned out, the experiments proved to be harmless.
However, Tulane's affair with the CIA brings to mind an
important question: should a university attempt to restrict
ils faculty from engaging in activities with the CIA and
other intelligence agencies?
The American Association of University Professors called
upon its members to "avoid any involvements which might
conflict with their academic obligations and responsibili-ties"
in its 1976 Resolution on Covert Intelligence Activities
of the UniterJ Stales Government. At Tulane and other uni-versities
many of the professors are upset with this state-ment.
It places them in a precarious posilic^n, lorn between
their professional responsibility and what many feel is their
:;atriotic duly. On the other hand, some professors have
(nade huge profits by engaging in research for intelligence
agencies, with lillle thought given \o professirjnal ethics f;r
'diriotism. To his credit. Dr. Heath received no monetary
ompf-nsalion frjr his wrjrk frjr the CIA, Anrl, when he was
: -.kcd lo f onduf I tests on the pain and pleasure < enters of
^le brain in 1%2, Heath promptly terminated his relation
hip with the CIA, falling the suggest irjn "abhrjrrfnl,"
U'jjislalion rrjuld tx- enaf led \)y Cf)ngrf'ss lo remove Ihc
huge profits available to academicians for f)driif ipdiing in
'' lA-sprjnsrjred research. This woukl rlisf r^urage those pro
•svjfs who f/jnrlurl such researr h f>nly ior Ihr' money,
'•search which is oitcn in the calegrjry of what l)r I Ic.iih
I'Tmerl "abhrjrrenl." Yel, nf> mailer hf>w mur h legisLiiion
is passed and no matter how many guidelines are adopted,
the CIA will probably find a way to successfully solicit the
aid of American universities in their covert research pro-jects.
The only hope is that professors like Dr. Heath will
continue to resist attempts to sacrifice their professional
ethics for whatever the reason, —Doug Nadjari
Ed.'s Note: Mr. Nadjari served as Associate News Editor
for the Hullabaloo this year and broke the story about
Tulane's CIA connections.
Student lift'/ 119
SASAKI'S MASTER PLAN
FOR CAMPUS
RE-DEVELOPMENT
BUILDINGS
1»- GIBSON HALL
2 - TILTON MEMORIAL
3 - DINWIOOIE HALL
4 - RICHARDSON MEMORIAL
5 - RICHARDSON BUILDING
6- NORMAN MAVER
7 - HISTORY
a - SOCIAL SCIENCES
9 - SOCIAL WORK
10 - STANLEY THOMAS
11 -CIVIL ENGINEERING
12 - MECHANICAL SERVICES
13 - CHEMICAL ENGINEERING
14- MECe AN ICAL ENGINEERING
15 - THEATRE AND SPEECH
18 -
19 -
20 -
21 -
22 -
23 -
24 -
25 -
26 -
27 -
28 -
29 -
XI-
31
33 -
ALCEE FORTIER
SCIENCE CENTER
JOSEPH M. JONES HALL
CENTRAL BUILDING
N^VY BUILDING
TELEPHONE EXCHANGE
BARRACKS 21. 26. 27
DIXON HALL
HOWARD TILTON LIBRARY
J BLANC MONROE DORM
PLAYHOUSE
OBSERVATORY
NEWCOMB HALL
McALISTER AUDITORIUM
ENGINEERING SHOPS
33-MECH ENG GRAD RESEARCH
34- NEWCOMB NURSERY
36 - JOSEPHINE LOUISE DORM
36- NEWCOMB POOL
37 - NEWCOMB GYM
38 - PHYSICAL PLANT BLDG.
39 - NEWCOMB ART BLDG.
40 - DORIS HALL
41 - PIERCE BUTLER HOUE
42 - WARREN HOUSE
43 - JOHNSTON HOUSE
44 -. PHELPS HOUSE
45 - IRBY HOUSE
46- PATERSON HOUSE
47 - 2EMURRAY HALL
48-- BRUFF COMMONS
49 - TULANE STADIUM
50 - DORIS HALL LOUNGE
51 - NYDIA BOAT HOUSE
62 MEDICAL CENTER COMPLEX
53- HAWTHORNE HALL
54 - LAB OF ENVIRONMENTAL MEDICINE
55 - COLUMBIA BUILDING
56 - PHYSICAL PLANT GARAGE
57 - PHYSICAL PLANT GREENHOUSE
58 - THEATRE WORKSHOP
69 - ROGERS MEMORIAL CHAPEL
72 - SAINTS LOCKER ROOM
73 - UNIVERSITY CENTER
74- NEW DORIS HALL
76 - FAVROT FIELD HOUSE
75 - CHARLES ROSEN HOUSE
Proposed
Developments
OPEM GPACE
Existing Conditions
: SERVICE
E ALTM SERVICE
HALL
S321 f HEHET ST
SMS f HEHET ST
62M SO ROBERTSON ST
531B 2022 MAGNOLIA ST
6328 MAGNOLIA ST
6320 SO CLAIBORNE AVE.
43 NEWCOMB PLACE
1314 AUOUaON ST
6901 WILLOW ST
- 6319 WILLOW ST
92 - FACULTY RES - 1318 20 AUDUBON ST
93 - FACULTY RES - 1332 34 AUDUBON ST
94 - FACULTY RES - 1338 AUDUBON ST
95 - FACULTY RES - 1404 AUDUBON ST
96 - FACULTY RES - 6320-22 BARRETT ST
97 -
98 - FACULTY RES - 1101 BROADWAY
99 - FACULTY RES - 1306 BHOADWA Y-7 107 PLUM ST
100 - FACULTY RES - 1315 BROADWAY
101 - FACULTY RES - 26O0 CALHOUN ST
102 - FACULTY RES - 2706-08 CALHOUN ST
103 - FACULTY RES - 2800 02 CALHOUN ST
104 - FACULTY RES - 2808 CALHOUN ST
105 - FACULTY RES - 2926 CALHOUN ST
106 - FACULTY RES - 7031 FHERET ST
107 - FACULTY RES - 6318-20 WILLOW ST.
108 - FACULTY RES - 6320 STORY ST.
109 - FACULTY RES - 6314 16 WILLOW ST.
1 10 - FACULTY RES - 7029 FRERET ST
111 - FACULTY RES - 6320 CLARA ST.
112 - FACULTY RES - 2 AUDUBON PLACE
113 - GRAD. LAB SOCIOLOGY AND ANTHROPOLOGY
114 - FACULTY RES - 7008 ZIMPLE ST
115 - FACULTY RES - 2510 CALHOUN
116 - FACULTY RES - 1326 AUDUBON ST,
117 - FACULTY RES - 7039-41 FRERET ST.
118 - FACULTY RES.- 10 I 3 AUDUBON ST,
119- FACULTY RES- 63-9 FRERET ST
120 - FACULTY RES - 6301 FRERET ST.
^j^l^-'^J
A-New addition. Electronics Lab
B-New addition, Classroom. Lab, Office
C-Proposed Hebert Building
D-Parking for 600 Cars
E — Building Site
F — Building Site. 3 Floors
G-Proposed renovation of Dixon Hall
H-Proposcd Garage for 400 Cars
I- Building Site, 3 Floors minimum
J-Proposed new Theater and Music
Building
K-Building Site, 3 Floors minimum
L-Addition to Newcomb Gym, 3 Floors
M-Residential Building Site
N-Parking Garage for 1200 Cars, Tennis
Courts on roof,
0-Proposed Continuing Education Facility
P— Recreation Building
Q-Monk Simons Athletic Building
R-Addition to Favrot Field House
S-Residential Building Site
COST ESTIMATES
Demolition $1,676,000
Major Building Renovation . 3,015,450
Proposed New Buildings 4,825,000
Major Site Improvement 1,562,000
Proposed Playfield 755,000
Proposed Building Renovation
for Disabled 1,740,000
Proposed Revenue Facilities . 16,675,000
SAY $31,000,000+
ASAKI: GREAT EXPECTATIONS
ih£' demolition of Tulanc Stadium, the closing of
McAlisler Drive to vehicular traffic, and the construction
of a new/ Theatre and Speech complex top the list of pro-jects
suggested by a recent study to develop Tulane's cam-pus
in the coming decade.
This master redevelopment plan was unveiled April 12,
al President Hackney's "State of the University" address by
a representative of Sasaki Associates Inc., the Massachu-setts
firm hired by Tulane last August to analyze the cam-pus
and its facility needs.
In Its analysis, the Sasaki Associates carefully studied the
physical characteristics of the existing campus environ-ment,
the use of existing building space, new building
facility requirements, and parking and playfield require-ments
for the University's 8,000 full-time students.
Although the Sasaki report states that "the existing over-all
pattern of land use on the Tulane campus is excellent,"
it stresses that, "the long range concept
should strengthen and extend it."
The study concluded that McAlister
Drive and Newcomb Place seriously dis-rupt
the "existing desirable pattern of land
use. Both Newcomb Place and McAlister
Drive are used as linear parking lots and
mar one of the most beautiful open cam-pus
spaces in the country."
In addition, the two roads were cited as
being hazardous to pedestrian traffic.
Under the Sasaki plan, McAlister Drive and
Newcomb Place would be closed to auto-mobiles
and re-developed as a pedestrian
mall at a cost of approximately $426,000.
The removal of the 560 parking spaces
would be compensated for by the building
of a major garage facility to house 1,000
cars. The garage would be built on Freret
Street where the ROTC barracks are pres-ently
located, at a cost of $2,700,000. The
new garage, according to Sasaki, "it
accompanied by a comprehensive and
enforceable parking policy," should sub-stantially
improve the current parking situ-ation.
Also, an additional 1,000 parking
spaces would be created if plans to demol-ish
the old Theatre/Speech building and
Sugar Bowl Stadium are carried through.
The complete demolition of the sta-dium,
which "dominates the campus and
neighborhood, and is becoming increas-ingly
derelict in appearance," receives
highest priority in the Sasaki plan.
Although the complete demolition comes
as no surprise, the stadium issue has been
surrounded by conflicting and confusing
reports throughout the years.
The University Board of Administrators
approved plans to dismantle Tulane Sta-dium
last summer after building inspectors
expressed concern over the stadium's
structural safety. At that time, James Fon-dren,
Assistant Director of the Physical
Plant, said the rcnoxation of the stadium for future use had
been considered, but was rejected when it was discovered
that the cost would be "phenomenal."
Oddly enough, both Fondren and Clarence Scheps,
Executive Vice-President of the University, adamantly
insisted in early February, just a month and a half before
the Sasaki Plan was revealed, that the stadium would not
be totally demolished.
The stadium occupies a twelve and one-half acre tract of
land valued between $6,500,000 to $22,500,000. The Sasaki
Associates feel that its demolition would be well worth the
estimated cost of $1.5 million. The area between Willow
and Claiborne would then be tied into the rest of the cam-pus,
while at the same time providing space for new facili-ties.
The Sasaki plan also calls for the removal of the old The-atre
and Speech building. A new complex would be con-
122 /Student Life
strucled on the present site of the Newcomb tennis courts,
between Newcomb and Dixon Halls. A reno\ation and
extension of Dixon Hall coupled with the new building
would add an outstanding performing arts facility to the
campus.
V\ ith the additional space opened up by the removal of
the stadium, Sasaki recommends the construction of a
major new recreation building to replace the outdated
women's facilities of the Newcomb pool and gym and the
men's facilities currently in Favrot Field House.
Such a facility "will add the kinds of indoor teaching and
recreation facilities found in comparable universities."
Also proposed for the current stadium site is a Continu-ing
Education Center, to consist of an apartment-hotel,
academic facilities, and commercial and office facilities.
The two buildings cited for construction on the site of
the stadium will cost $13,800,000, but "should be planned
to be financially self-liquidating because of its user-reve-nue
potential."
If it is in fact expected that these two buildings will pay
for themselves, it remains highly unclear as to where the
money will come from to pay for the other proposed reno-vations,
along with the demolition of old Ixiildings and
construction of nev\ ones.
An upgrading of the landscape on the Broadway side of
Newcomb Hall in order to "strengthen the image of the
University" also takes a high priority among renovations
suggested by Sasaki.
It is also proposed thai the Dean's office and related
functions of the College of Arts and Sciences be relocated
to a renovated first floor of the History building to satisfy
the college's need for a physical identity.
Also targeted for renovation is the central luiilding on
Freret Street which currently serves as home court for the
varsity basketball team.
"In order to accommodate student-related administra-tive
and business functions," Sasaki recommends that the
varsity basketball home games be played in an expanded
Favrot Field House.
The Newcomb Gym and Pool, relocated to the new Rec-reation
building, will undergo heavy renovation, convert-ing
it into the University's museum and gallery, along with
a proposed new smaller building.
Three other small buildings are also called for, to serve
specific purposes. The Monk Simons Athletic Building,
scheduled for construction shortly, will house the athletic
staff and varsity locker and laundry rooms.
The F. Edward Hebert Building, on Freret Street, will
store the Congressional papers and mementos of the for-mer
Congressman.
The Pendleton E. Ledhe Electronics Laboratory "will
replace the existing engineering shops and will provide
updated and expanded electronics laboratory space for the
College of Engineering."
Finally, Sasaki sharply criticizes Tulane's scheduling sys-tem
antJ the quality of some instructional space.
The quality of space ranges from a very high standard in
lh(> Business School, to spaces in other buildings which are
"in such poor condition that their use should be discontin-ued."
The Sasaki report serves a worthwhile purpose by help-ing
the Univ(Tsily in selling and achie^ving its goals and pri-orities
for lhnlation of any of Sasaki's proposals. — Rick
Lerner and Abby Sutherland
Student life / ri.i
This Page:
Nate Lee, leader of the CRASS
Movement
Opposite Page: ASB President
Jenny Brush
ASB: REBELLION IN THE RANKS
The most important issue to sur-face
in the ASB Senate during the fall
of 1978 was not, ironically, the pro-posed
abolishment of deficit funded
big-time athletics — but a proposal
that the Senate itself be abolished.
Led by A&S Senior class president
Nate Lee, the Coalition to Realign or
Abolish Student Senate (CRASS),
shocked the ASB into a state of crit-ical
self-evaluation by its proposal in
late October that the Student Senate
be terminated.
Lee wrote in a November HULLA-BALOO
editorial, that, "the Senate is
counterproductive to the potential of
itself or of the individual," declaring
that, "first, there is no self-govern-ment
in the Student Senate . . . Sec-ond,
it is somewhat unique in its hav-ing
no pretense to popular sover-eignty."
Severe apathy characterized
both Tulane's student government
and its constituency.
Lee quoted ASB President lenny
Brush, who had stated in an earlier
editorial that, "It took a few years,
but I have arrived at the conclusion
that there is no need for the Student
Senate . . . they as a senate are
totally dispensable." Indeed, such an
appraisal from the Senate's leader,
along with her "realization" that,
"senators for the most part, are by
nature lazy," could only support the
logic of the conclusion which CRASS
had come to: "Don't just say they are
dispensable; dispense with them
totally."
The CRASS alternative was for a
town council type structure in which
CRASS Student Senators would be
elected only to their individual
(rather than ASB) college govern-ments.
In order "to bring student
government directly to the students,"
an Associated Council with the same
powers of recommendation and
approval as that of the Senate would
represent the ASB. This council
would be open to any student with a
valid Tulane I.D. "By letting all stu-dents
vole," said Lee, "every de
would have more impact in the
of the administration and faculty."
Charges were consistently leveled
by student leaders, and senators
themselves, in regard to the Senate's
lax attitude throughout the fall.
Among the charges which catalyzed
the formation of CRASS were: ASE
election violations; meetings ending
early or senators leaving in the mid-dle
of a session with New Business
ignored during such meetings, ASE
committees failing to hold schedulec
meetings; profuse absences fron
Senate meetings, general unaccount
ability to its student body constitu
ents; and, failure to be fully informec
on key University issues.
Moreover, the fact that 35% of th(
Senators did not even bother to sigi
up for the one required committei
position, and that less than ten Sena
tors served on all University Senat
committees supported Lee's ascerbi
observation that, "nothing we [sena
724 / Student Life
m^
tors) do is of any importance, except
to ourselves."
Tom Echols (A&S '80) echoed Lee's
comments when he wrote in a letter
to the Hullabaloo that, "We the stu-dents
of Tulane University are now
witnessing something that should
never have been allowed to happen — the decline of the student govern-ment."
The sludf-nl gf)vf'rnmont was fur-ther
discredited this year when it was
discovered by the HULLABALOO
that ASB President Brush had written
a confidential letter urging the dis-missal
of Dean of Students Annette
TcnElshof. The letter haci been cricu-laled
to JO administrative, faculty,
and student leaders. "Annette TenE-Ishof
has got to go," wrote Brush. She
ihf-n proceeded to list, in a rather
^ue and cryptic manner, ten rea-w^
ns why the Dean should be dis-charged.
Brush's letter contained no expla-nalir^
n or suppruling evidentf to
back up her daims. The ASB Presi-dent
camv under severe criticism
from slurienls for her arlir^ns. One
student wrrjte that the letter was "a
typical example of her tactics. Ba
THE BATTLE OF MAPLE STREET
Thursday night on Maple Street has become as much of
a tradition at Tulane as TCIF's on the quad. Not only on
Thursday nights, but also during the weekend, the bars
maintain a profitable business from students who enjoy
having a place close to campus where they can relax. This
traditional Tulane water hole, however, may soon be
undergoing an evolution.
A dispute erupted during the year between bar owners
and local residents. The conflict centered around a basic
question of rights — the right of the Maple Street residents
to a home safe from the noise, danger, and property dam-age
caused by drunk bar patrons vs. the bar owners' right
to run their businesses, free from harassment, in the great
American tradition of free enterprise.
For years, people living in the Maple Street neighbor-hood
have complained of excess noise and littering prob-lems.
In addition, the residents claimed that cars belonging
to bar customers frequently blocked streets and driveways,
making it impossible for a fire truck or police car to get
through in the event of an emergency.
To combat the problems, residents several years ago
formed the Maple Street Area Residents Association. The
organization has repeatedly fought the bars with legal
action. This year the association succeeded in getting City
Councilman Frank Friedler to introduce a moratorium on
new bars in the area. In addition, any increase in the busi-ness
of the existing bars was blocked through the Associa-tion's
movement to enforce city, fire, safety, and zoning
regulations. Although all the bars on Maple Street were
affected, the conflict centered mainly on the two newest
bars in the area — Buffalo and Fae-Do-Do.
"I am appalled," declared Tom Kunstler, the owner of
Buffalo, "that a cup or a bottle in someone's yard should be
the reason enough to destroy a man's business."
On the suggestion of Gideon Stanton, the president of
the Association, Kunstler placed trash cans in front of his
bar. The trash cans alleviated the littering problem, but
Kunstler's problems weren't over. Kunstler, the Association
contended, failed to follow certain fire safety regulations
requiring the installment of a sprinkler device called a del-uge
system. Until this system was installed, the residents
claimed the bar could not legally operate. The case was
brought to court.
Then